An Assassin's Tale: The Return of Grummok - A taste of things to come =]
Dirge,
In one of the earlier chapters it says that Matron Aleval hired Grummock to kill her house's former weapon master, yet in one of the later chapters it says that Aleval, alone of all Matron Mothers in the city, had never hired an assassin (including Grummock).
What gives?
In one of the earlier chapters it says that Matron Aleval hired Grummock to kill her house's former weapon master, yet in one of the later chapters it says that Aleval, alone of all Matron Mothers in the city, had never hired an assassin (including Grummock).
What gives?
Rikandur Azebol
First Post
Pyurx said:
Kezakia Tomtor hired Grummock then. Because he is discreet person.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
(Not to mention that as lesser creature would never dare to mock her.)
Drows rock, and Drizz't is a weak minded fool, thinking that he's "diffrent".
His body count is that big that even Grummock might get jealous.
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
Pyurx said:
That, my friend, is called a continuity problem. It's why writers pay lots of money to have their books professionally edited.
Nice catch, thanks for pointing it out. I have removed the offending paragraph which fixes the continuity problem.
Oh, and thanks for delurking and posting.
Dirge
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Rikandur Azebol
First Post
BLACKDIRGE said:That, my friend, is called a continuity problem. It's why writers pay lots of money to have their books professionally edited.
Nice catch, thanks for pointing it out. I have removed the offending paragraph which fixes the continuity problem.
Oh, and thanks for delurking and posting.
Dirge
Oops ! My mistake then.
Apologises for everyone, and a bootle of rat pois ... pack of cookies.
Except Blackdirge, he owes me some more updates.
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Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
It's too simple. Is it? is this just a diversion from the real story? or is the Assassin being misled by what someone wants him to see?
GW
GW
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
Time for a little more drow mayhem.
Part XII
Matron Fadarra Noquar knelt in silent supplication before the stone image of a great rearing spider. The matron mother’s mouth moved with quiet benedictions, prayers offered up to her goddess, prayers of mercy and forgiveness destined to go unheard by a deity possessed with naught but cruelty and evil. Fadarra Noquar was considered the fairest of all the matron mothers, tall and graceful, with high cheekbones and full sensual lips. She was attired in a black tunic of finely woven spider silk, a garment both stylish and utilitarian, as the specially prepared spider mesh would turn aside a blade like hardened leather. Her hair, long and creamy white, fell in one long braid to the middle of her slender back. The matron mother was armed only with a short curved sword, hung from her belt in a mithral scabbard.
House Noquar, like the other noble houses of Erelhei-Cinlu, had felt the brunt of Matron Aleval’s death at the hands of a mysterious assassin. Fadarra Noquar had fought hard to attain her position as the fourth ruling house in the city, and the prospect of losing Lolth’s favor could mean only one thing: losing one’s life. So Fadarra had spent these last few days since the discovery of Matron Aleval's body in the modest chapel to Lolth contained within the center of the Noquar compound. Even now as she knelt in prayer, Fadarra silently cursed herself for not constructing a more grandiose place of worship. Her chapel was small by the standards of Erelhei-Cinlu’s nobility, a simple square room, fifteen feet to a side, adorned only by a stone statue of Lolth. The Noquar house had chosen to construct their idol in the image of a huge rearing spider, an older, but not forgotten depiction of Lolth, uncommon now against the more popular representations of the spider goddess.
Every matron mother knew that Lolth had somehow become displeased with the rulers of Erelhei-Cinlu, but none knew why. Fadarra herself could conjure a hundred reasons as to why the spider queen might strike out at her faithful, but the fickle and unpredictable goddess was just as likely to act out of pure spite than any legitimate reason. Such was the peril of those who ruled beneath the ever-watchful gaze of Lolth. The spider queen offered power, but at the very real and constant threat of becoming just another victim to the goddess’s chaotic whims and rages.
Matron Noquar knew that the matron mothers were being judged, no one entered into the domain of a matron mother, murdered her without a struggle, and then disappeared. Only divine intervention would allow for such an assassination. The matron mothers, locked away in their walled compounds were simply too well guarded for a mundane assassin to attempt such a killing. Well, that’s not entirely true, Matron Fadarra thought. There was one who might be able to complete such a mission, but he was the pet of Matron Tormtor, and would certainly not jeopardize his position on such a reckless endeavor.
Grummok, the guildmaster of assassins, was the most skilled murderer Eerelhei-Cinlu had ever seen, and there was more than a little speculation that it was his blade that had ended Matron Aleval’s life. Fadarra doubted this, for she had used the assassin on several occasions and found him a most agreeable servant. The power he held as guildmaster was far more than most males could even dream of, and the murder of a matron mother would do nothing but bring down the inescapable wrath of Lolth upon any who dared such an affront to the spider queen.
Of course, there was another rumor that had begun to circulate through the remaining matron mothers. Some believed that Matron Tormtor herself had hired Grummok to slay Matron Aleval, her most ardent rival. Again, Fadarra dismissed this as idle speculation, for Lolth’s laws forbade such an assassination. A matron mother who sought to kill another, must perform the deed herself, and in a highly ritualized, and public duel. It had been hundreds of years since such a duel had taken place, as very few matron mothers were willing to risk their station as well as their life on such a conflict. Any who broke this law were subject to the immediate and furious retribution of Lolth herself, so any thought of Matron Tormtor’s involvement in Mevremas Aleval’s death was utter nonsense.
Fadarra let these thoughts sift through the mantra-like tones of her prayers, knowing that she, or any of the matron mothers, would likely know nothing until Lolth wished them to. Perhaps it had been only Matron Aleval that had sinned against the spider queen, and Lolth’s judgment had already been meted out in its entirety. This was a vain hope, but hope nonetheless, and Matron Noquar allowed herself to indulge in its soothing caress for the tiniest moment before dismissing it away as foolishness.
Her prayers went on, sliding about the spartan chapel, whispering off the stone legs of Lolth’s idol. Fadarra’s knees began to ache, her neck cramped with the weight of her head dangling between her shoulder blades, but still she droned on. If Lolth saw her devotion, it might be enough to sway the spider queen’s favor back to her house, might be enough to keep her among the living for at least a few more decades.
A sudden chitinous scraping at the rear of the chapel brought Fadarra’s prayers to a halt. She raised her head, her right hand sliding down to grasp the hilt of her scimitar where it hung at her belt. Slowly she stood, wincing at the twin blasts of her knees popping, and drew the scimitar from its sheathe in one single, fluid motion. The metallic rasp of the blade clearing its scabbard was followed by another soft scrape behind her, this time not more than a few feet away.
“Does she answer you, Matron Noquar?” A soft feminine voice purred from the silent darkness of the chapel.
Fadarra turned slowly, her delicate hands bringing her blade before her in a fighting stance. Her breath left her in a single gasp at the completion of her turn, sucked away by the sight of the hateful apparition that confronted her. “Lolth have mercy!” She cried, retreating so that her back was pushed up against the stone idol of Lolth.
“Why Matron Noquar, have I grown so hideous that you do not remember me?” The soft scraping of many chitin-sheathed appendages echoed through the chapel as the drider scuttled forward. A blasphemous blending of drow and monstrous spider, the drider was an abomination, the penalty for any drow who did not meet Lolth’s exacting standards.
“Nyssanna…” Matron Noquar stammered, “You were banished, cast out, you profane this holy place with your presence!”
“Illume!” The drider spat suddenly, and the chapel was flooded in the brilliant glare of magical illumination. The light caught upon the glimmering carapace of the aberrant creature, highlighting every awful detail of its nefarious form. A smooth bulbous abdomen, supported by eight segmented legs, truncated into the slim waist of a drow maiden, naked but for a leather belt encircling the intersection of drow and spider. The drider’s face was elegant, regal even, possessing a cold beauty that was not unfamiliar to Fadarra Noquar. She was a perfect blending of the monstrous and the refined, a walking contradiction of bodily forms. The drider carried all of her rage and hatred for her horrid state in her eyes, red pupils floating on a field of jaundiced yellow, aching with malice and retribution.
The sudden light had blinded matron Noquar, and she hissed in pain as her seared corneas struggled to cope with the unfamiliar illumination. Fadarra slashed blindly with her scimitar at the air in front of her, but her blade met no resistance.
“Calm yourself, Matron Noquar.” The drider whispered. Close now, almost within striking distance. “I wont kill you while you flail about blindly, that would be…unfair.”
“Why have you returned, Nyssanna?” Fadarra asked, lowering her blade, and covering her aching eyes with her left hand. “You violate Lolth’s edict of banishment for your kind.”
The drider, which Matron Noquar had named Nyssanna, laughed, the musical tones of her voice echoing mockingly through the chapel. “On the contrary matron Noquar, I am here at the behest of our beloved spider queen. I have come to root out the weakness that has infected this city, a task that has proved far easier than I had expected.”
“Then Matron Aleval’s blood stains your hands.” Fadarra accused.
“Yes, and that of those two puling sons of house Despana.” Nyssanna admitted. “There sins were great and Lolth demanded their blood.”
“And how is it that you have been elected the dispenser of the spider queen’s justice. As you are, in fact, the product of that justice, a failure in the eyes of Lolth.” The question was biting, for drow made the transition to drider only after failing one of the spider queens many rigorous tests, designed to weed out the weak and imperfect. It was a fate worse than death for most drow, as their own body was an eternal testament to their own personal failures.
Fadarra’s eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the light that pervaded her chapel, and she saw the blurred outline of Nyssanna, squatting, huge and bloated, not more than five paces away. The drider was positioned so that her insectile bulk blocked the room’s only egress.
Nyssanna wasted no time in answering Fadarra’s question, smiling wide, showcasing the splendor of her fine aristocratic features. “It is true that I was once deemed a failure in the eyes of our beloved goddess.” Nyssanna began. “I had not seen the truth of her wisdom and sought only to better my own position in Erelhei-Cinlu. This foolishness led to my present state, but unlike others so cursed, I knew that the path to salvation had not been closed, Lolth merely awaited the opening of my eyes, and the realization that my life served her, and nothing else.”
“You sound like the nothing more than a blind zealot, Nyssanna.” Fadarra scoffed. “Before your failure, I believed you had the potential to be a great ruler, like your mother. You have forsaken all that she worked to instill in you, forsaken your individuality, that is why you failed.”
The smile faded from Nyssanna’s face, evaporating like smoke and leaving only a clenched snarl of hatred behind. The drider shot forward, rising up on her eight legs to tower above matron Noquar. To her credit, Fadarra did no flinch, or even raise her blade in defense. She merely met the burning glare of her assailant with the cold resolve of the damned.
“My mother is why I failed!” Nyssanna howled. “Her teachings contradict those of Lolth! Had I but turned aside from her heresy, I would be ruling in her stead!”
The drider’s fury beat down upon Fadarra like the waves of angry sea, and she prepared herself for the deathblow that would surely follow Nyssanna’s outburst. But it did not fall.
“No.” Nyssanna whispered. “You will not goad me.” Her rage melted away, and she scuttled back to her original position in front of the chapel’s doorway. “I knew that my mother and her allies would conjure up demon’s from the past, but my faith in Lolth shall shield me from such distractions.”
“Very well, we will not discuss the past.” Matron Noquar acquiesced. “Let us instead focus on the future, my future to be exact.”
“You have no future.” Nyssanna stated matter-of-factly. “But, I will grant you a swift death if you answer my questions without hesitation.”
“If you slew Matron Aleval in her own bed chamber than I have little hope of defeating you in open combat. Mevremas was a mightier drow than I.” Fadarra conceded. “So then, my fate is sealed, but before I answer your questions, you will answer one of mine. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Ask your question.” Nyssanna replied, bowing in mock reverence to the matron mother.
“What is my crime?” The question was simple, but Fadarra knew the answer would likely be far more complicated.
Nyssanna smiled, a cruel glee had sprung to life at the corners of her mouth and in the unchecked malice of her eyes. “Your crime is one best demonstrated rather than merely spoken aloud.” The drider turned her body to the side to allow a small gap between herself and the chapel’s doorway. “Uvesh, noc sadaa!” Nyssanna called out in a language Fadarra had never heard. In answer, a twin staccato bark in the same odd tongue floated out from the hall beyond the chapel.
Fadarra watched as two small shapes squeezed themselves through the aperture created between Nyssanna’s body and the door. The matron mother gasped in horror at the multi-limbed monstrosities that scuttled into her chapel. Chitines, an abomination hated and feared even above driders. The spider folk were reviled not only for their hideous appearance, but also for their odd connection to the spider queen, a mystery that the matron mothers of Erelhei-Cinlu were more than a little fearful to plumb too deeply.
The appearance of the Chitines was unsettling, as their involvement with Nyssanna hinted at layers of intrigue that Fadarra could not begin to understand. But what the two horrid little beasts carried with them exposed emotions that Fadarra had carefully hidden for decades.
“Vennush!” Fadarra cried out the name of her consort, as the chitines dumped the inert body of a male drow at her feet. Matron Noquar sank to her knees, her hands reaching out to touch the still flesh of her lover.
“There!” Nyssanna cried out in triumph. “That is your sin. Quelaa!” The drider spat the last word with as much venom as she could muster; for it was a word in the tongue of the surface elves, a word that had no equivalent in the drow language, a word that simply meant, love.
“Why?” Fadarra sobbed, her ebon features stained with grief. “He did nothing, your business was with me! With me!” She pounded her chest with the hilt of her sword; the dull thump of metal striking flesh a rhythmic cadence of loss and anguish.
“His sin was the same as yours.” Nyssanna announced. “Your weakness infected him, just as it has corrupted you.”
Vennush had been Fadarra’s consort for fifty years; the handsome drow warrior had served in her house guard for years and had eventually caught her eye after she had tired of her previous consort. Their dalliances began as nothing more than physical pleasure, but Vennush’s keen mind and unusual philosophical bent intrigued the matron mother, and their relationship had grown into something far more than she had expected. Vennush was a worshiper of Vhaeraun, the patron god of drow males, and although this allegiance was not illegal, it was stilled frowned upon by the ruling matriarchy of Erelhei-Cinlu.
Vennush had believed firmly in the teachings of Vhaeraun, believing that a unified society rather than the oppressive rule of a few individuals was the key to unlocking the potential of the drow race as a whole. Fadarra had scoffed at these ideas, considering them little more than a male’s idle ponderings, but after years of intimate association with Vennush, she began to see the merits of his ideals. But, regardless of her illicit feelings towards her consort, feelings she could neither name nor resist, she could not allow her passion to influence her rule as matron mother. So she had kept her relationship with Vennush a secret, admitting freely that he was her consort in public, were she would debase and scorn him, behavior expected of a matron mother towards her inferior male consort. But alone, in her chambers, there was equality; there was tenderness, and an abiding commitment that went beyond anything she had ever experienced.
Now looking down into the empty eyes of her mate, Fadarra cursed herself for a fool. Her indiscretions had cost her something far more dear that even her own life. She took Vennush’s lifeless hand into her own, pressing it against her cheek to let the final warmth of her tears wash over his cold, inert flesh. Fadarra then leaned forward, brushing her lips against Vennush’s ear. “En nol daha veh, ni quelaa.” She whispered in elvish, words that brought a snort of disgust from Nyssanna. I will see you soon, my love.
“Look how pathetic you have become, matron Noquar. Reduced to a sobbing wreck by a male.” Nyssanna spat.
Fadarra placed Vennush’s hand upon his chest and rose to her feet, her eyes dead calm behind a mask of grief. “Ask your questions, Nyssanna. I would be done with this.”
“Very well, I have but one inquiry I must make before you join your lover in the abyss.” The drider said.
“Then ask, and be done with it.”
“Tell me what you know of the guildmaster of assassin’s, this Grummok. I hear that his services have been retained to investigate the death of matron Aleval.”
“He is an assassin, skilled at his work, and possessed of a keen mind. It is hardly surprising that Matron Tormtor would hire an assassin to find an assassin.” Fadarra said, her face was passive, but inside her heart pounded with fear and excitement. If there was anyone in the city that might put a hiccup in the plans of Lolth and her proxy, it was Grummok. Many of the matron mothers feared the gargoyle assassin, as his skill and expertise at his chosen profession was without rival. His services were, of course, far to valuable to elicit any thought of disposing of him, and Matron Tormtor seemed to command his loyalty well enough.
“You say he is skilled. How skilled?” Nyssanna pressed.
“I have used his services on more than one occasion, he has always been quick and discreet. To my knowledge he has never failed to execute a contract.” Fadarra downplayed Grummok’s skill as much as she dared, for if Nyssanna suspected that Grummok might be a danger to her, it could force a confrontation the assassin might not be ready for.
“He has quite a pit of power for a male, although this hardly surprises me after your pitiful display.” Nyssanna declared acidly.
“That is all I know.” Fadarra said with a shrug. “If you desire more information, then ask your mother. I am sure she will be more than happy to provide you with all the answers you seek.”
“Oh yes, I will being seeing mother soon enough.” Nyssanna said, ignoring Fadarra’s barb. “But now there is unfinished business between you and I.” The drider drew a long wavy bladed dagger from where it hung in a sheath on her belt.
Fadarra brought her scimitar up before her, and suddenly her mouth creased in a grin.
“What are you smiling at, fool?” Nyssanna asked as she moved forward slowly, weaving her dagger before her body in wide intricate patterns. “Know you not that death is upon you?”
“Yes, death is upon me.” Fadarra agreed. “But my end shall not be in accordance to the will of Lolth!” The matron mother cried, and reversed the point of her sword, angling it towards her own abdomen.
“No! Stop!” Nyssanna bellowed, surging forward, dagger cocked back to retrieve her murder from the uncooperative matron Noquar. But Fadarra was faster, and with one massive heave drove her scimitar completely through her own body. She fell to her knees; both hands still wrapped around the hilt of her weapon, and ripped the keen edge of the scimitar through her gut, spilling a hot gush of entrails across her lap.
The smile faded from Fadarra Noquar’s face as the light faded from her eyes. She toppled over, collapsing across the corpse of Vennush, a wide pool of crimson spreading to encompass the bodies of both lovers.
“I’ll grant you this, bitch.” Nyssanna said as she stared down at the still bodies of Fadarra and Vennush. “You surprised me there at the end. But it wont make much of a difference when the Yochlol are devouring your souls in the demon web.” The drider sheathed her dagger, and turned to her chitine servants. “Let her bleed to death, it wont take long.”
Fadarra clung to life, holding her final breath in reserve for one more task. Through the darkness of her fading life, she heard the chitinous scuttling of Nyssanna and her chitines leaving the chapel. When she was sure that she was alone, the matron mother moved her left hand to brush the skin of Vennush’s neck, and then with the point of one painted, finely manicure nail, carved three letters into his flesh, N Y S. Fadarra had planned to leave more, but the darkness of eternity rose up to swallow her, and as she spiraled down into oblivion, matron Noquar silently blessed the blades of a gargoyle assassin, that they might find the black heart of Nyssanna Tormtor.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Part XII
Matron Fadarra Noquar knelt in silent supplication before the stone image of a great rearing spider. The matron mother’s mouth moved with quiet benedictions, prayers offered up to her goddess, prayers of mercy and forgiveness destined to go unheard by a deity possessed with naught but cruelty and evil. Fadarra Noquar was considered the fairest of all the matron mothers, tall and graceful, with high cheekbones and full sensual lips. She was attired in a black tunic of finely woven spider silk, a garment both stylish and utilitarian, as the specially prepared spider mesh would turn aside a blade like hardened leather. Her hair, long and creamy white, fell in one long braid to the middle of her slender back. The matron mother was armed only with a short curved sword, hung from her belt in a mithral scabbard.
House Noquar, like the other noble houses of Erelhei-Cinlu, had felt the brunt of Matron Aleval’s death at the hands of a mysterious assassin. Fadarra Noquar had fought hard to attain her position as the fourth ruling house in the city, and the prospect of losing Lolth’s favor could mean only one thing: losing one’s life. So Fadarra had spent these last few days since the discovery of Matron Aleval's body in the modest chapel to Lolth contained within the center of the Noquar compound. Even now as she knelt in prayer, Fadarra silently cursed herself for not constructing a more grandiose place of worship. Her chapel was small by the standards of Erelhei-Cinlu’s nobility, a simple square room, fifteen feet to a side, adorned only by a stone statue of Lolth. The Noquar house had chosen to construct their idol in the image of a huge rearing spider, an older, but not forgotten depiction of Lolth, uncommon now against the more popular representations of the spider goddess.
Every matron mother knew that Lolth had somehow become displeased with the rulers of Erelhei-Cinlu, but none knew why. Fadarra herself could conjure a hundred reasons as to why the spider queen might strike out at her faithful, but the fickle and unpredictable goddess was just as likely to act out of pure spite than any legitimate reason. Such was the peril of those who ruled beneath the ever-watchful gaze of Lolth. The spider queen offered power, but at the very real and constant threat of becoming just another victim to the goddess’s chaotic whims and rages.
Matron Noquar knew that the matron mothers were being judged, no one entered into the domain of a matron mother, murdered her without a struggle, and then disappeared. Only divine intervention would allow for such an assassination. The matron mothers, locked away in their walled compounds were simply too well guarded for a mundane assassin to attempt such a killing. Well, that’s not entirely true, Matron Fadarra thought. There was one who might be able to complete such a mission, but he was the pet of Matron Tormtor, and would certainly not jeopardize his position on such a reckless endeavor.
Grummok, the guildmaster of assassins, was the most skilled murderer Eerelhei-Cinlu had ever seen, and there was more than a little speculation that it was his blade that had ended Matron Aleval’s life. Fadarra doubted this, for she had used the assassin on several occasions and found him a most agreeable servant. The power he held as guildmaster was far more than most males could even dream of, and the murder of a matron mother would do nothing but bring down the inescapable wrath of Lolth upon any who dared such an affront to the spider queen.
Of course, there was another rumor that had begun to circulate through the remaining matron mothers. Some believed that Matron Tormtor herself had hired Grummok to slay Matron Aleval, her most ardent rival. Again, Fadarra dismissed this as idle speculation, for Lolth’s laws forbade such an assassination. A matron mother who sought to kill another, must perform the deed herself, and in a highly ritualized, and public duel. It had been hundreds of years since such a duel had taken place, as very few matron mothers were willing to risk their station as well as their life on such a conflict. Any who broke this law were subject to the immediate and furious retribution of Lolth herself, so any thought of Matron Tormtor’s involvement in Mevremas Aleval’s death was utter nonsense.
Fadarra let these thoughts sift through the mantra-like tones of her prayers, knowing that she, or any of the matron mothers, would likely know nothing until Lolth wished them to. Perhaps it had been only Matron Aleval that had sinned against the spider queen, and Lolth’s judgment had already been meted out in its entirety. This was a vain hope, but hope nonetheless, and Matron Noquar allowed herself to indulge in its soothing caress for the tiniest moment before dismissing it away as foolishness.
Her prayers went on, sliding about the spartan chapel, whispering off the stone legs of Lolth’s idol. Fadarra’s knees began to ache, her neck cramped with the weight of her head dangling between her shoulder blades, but still she droned on. If Lolth saw her devotion, it might be enough to sway the spider queen’s favor back to her house, might be enough to keep her among the living for at least a few more decades.
A sudden chitinous scraping at the rear of the chapel brought Fadarra’s prayers to a halt. She raised her head, her right hand sliding down to grasp the hilt of her scimitar where it hung at her belt. Slowly she stood, wincing at the twin blasts of her knees popping, and drew the scimitar from its sheathe in one single, fluid motion. The metallic rasp of the blade clearing its scabbard was followed by another soft scrape behind her, this time not more than a few feet away.
“Does she answer you, Matron Noquar?” A soft feminine voice purred from the silent darkness of the chapel.
Fadarra turned slowly, her delicate hands bringing her blade before her in a fighting stance. Her breath left her in a single gasp at the completion of her turn, sucked away by the sight of the hateful apparition that confronted her. “Lolth have mercy!” She cried, retreating so that her back was pushed up against the stone idol of Lolth.
“Why Matron Noquar, have I grown so hideous that you do not remember me?” The soft scraping of many chitin-sheathed appendages echoed through the chapel as the drider scuttled forward. A blasphemous blending of drow and monstrous spider, the drider was an abomination, the penalty for any drow who did not meet Lolth’s exacting standards.
“Nyssanna…” Matron Noquar stammered, “You were banished, cast out, you profane this holy place with your presence!”
“Illume!” The drider spat suddenly, and the chapel was flooded in the brilliant glare of magical illumination. The light caught upon the glimmering carapace of the aberrant creature, highlighting every awful detail of its nefarious form. A smooth bulbous abdomen, supported by eight segmented legs, truncated into the slim waist of a drow maiden, naked but for a leather belt encircling the intersection of drow and spider. The drider’s face was elegant, regal even, possessing a cold beauty that was not unfamiliar to Fadarra Noquar. She was a perfect blending of the monstrous and the refined, a walking contradiction of bodily forms. The drider carried all of her rage and hatred for her horrid state in her eyes, red pupils floating on a field of jaundiced yellow, aching with malice and retribution.
The sudden light had blinded matron Noquar, and she hissed in pain as her seared corneas struggled to cope with the unfamiliar illumination. Fadarra slashed blindly with her scimitar at the air in front of her, but her blade met no resistance.
“Calm yourself, Matron Noquar.” The drider whispered. Close now, almost within striking distance. “I wont kill you while you flail about blindly, that would be…unfair.”
“Why have you returned, Nyssanna?” Fadarra asked, lowering her blade, and covering her aching eyes with her left hand. “You violate Lolth’s edict of banishment for your kind.”
The drider, which Matron Noquar had named Nyssanna, laughed, the musical tones of her voice echoing mockingly through the chapel. “On the contrary matron Noquar, I am here at the behest of our beloved spider queen. I have come to root out the weakness that has infected this city, a task that has proved far easier than I had expected.”
“Then Matron Aleval’s blood stains your hands.” Fadarra accused.
“Yes, and that of those two puling sons of house Despana.” Nyssanna admitted. “There sins were great and Lolth demanded their blood.”
“And how is it that you have been elected the dispenser of the spider queen’s justice. As you are, in fact, the product of that justice, a failure in the eyes of Lolth.” The question was biting, for drow made the transition to drider only after failing one of the spider queens many rigorous tests, designed to weed out the weak and imperfect. It was a fate worse than death for most drow, as their own body was an eternal testament to their own personal failures.
Fadarra’s eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the light that pervaded her chapel, and she saw the blurred outline of Nyssanna, squatting, huge and bloated, not more than five paces away. The drider was positioned so that her insectile bulk blocked the room’s only egress.
Nyssanna wasted no time in answering Fadarra’s question, smiling wide, showcasing the splendor of her fine aristocratic features. “It is true that I was once deemed a failure in the eyes of our beloved goddess.” Nyssanna began. “I had not seen the truth of her wisdom and sought only to better my own position in Erelhei-Cinlu. This foolishness led to my present state, but unlike others so cursed, I knew that the path to salvation had not been closed, Lolth merely awaited the opening of my eyes, and the realization that my life served her, and nothing else.”
“You sound like the nothing more than a blind zealot, Nyssanna.” Fadarra scoffed. “Before your failure, I believed you had the potential to be a great ruler, like your mother. You have forsaken all that she worked to instill in you, forsaken your individuality, that is why you failed.”
The smile faded from Nyssanna’s face, evaporating like smoke and leaving only a clenched snarl of hatred behind. The drider shot forward, rising up on her eight legs to tower above matron Noquar. To her credit, Fadarra did no flinch, or even raise her blade in defense. She merely met the burning glare of her assailant with the cold resolve of the damned.
“My mother is why I failed!” Nyssanna howled. “Her teachings contradict those of Lolth! Had I but turned aside from her heresy, I would be ruling in her stead!”
The drider’s fury beat down upon Fadarra like the waves of angry sea, and she prepared herself for the deathblow that would surely follow Nyssanna’s outburst. But it did not fall.
“No.” Nyssanna whispered. “You will not goad me.” Her rage melted away, and she scuttled back to her original position in front of the chapel’s doorway. “I knew that my mother and her allies would conjure up demon’s from the past, but my faith in Lolth shall shield me from such distractions.”
“Very well, we will not discuss the past.” Matron Noquar acquiesced. “Let us instead focus on the future, my future to be exact.”
“You have no future.” Nyssanna stated matter-of-factly. “But, I will grant you a swift death if you answer my questions without hesitation.”
“If you slew Matron Aleval in her own bed chamber than I have little hope of defeating you in open combat. Mevremas was a mightier drow than I.” Fadarra conceded. “So then, my fate is sealed, but before I answer your questions, you will answer one of mine. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Ask your question.” Nyssanna replied, bowing in mock reverence to the matron mother.
“What is my crime?” The question was simple, but Fadarra knew the answer would likely be far more complicated.
Nyssanna smiled, a cruel glee had sprung to life at the corners of her mouth and in the unchecked malice of her eyes. “Your crime is one best demonstrated rather than merely spoken aloud.” The drider turned her body to the side to allow a small gap between herself and the chapel’s doorway. “Uvesh, noc sadaa!” Nyssanna called out in a language Fadarra had never heard. In answer, a twin staccato bark in the same odd tongue floated out from the hall beyond the chapel.
Fadarra watched as two small shapes squeezed themselves through the aperture created between Nyssanna’s body and the door. The matron mother gasped in horror at the multi-limbed monstrosities that scuttled into her chapel. Chitines, an abomination hated and feared even above driders. The spider folk were reviled not only for their hideous appearance, but also for their odd connection to the spider queen, a mystery that the matron mothers of Erelhei-Cinlu were more than a little fearful to plumb too deeply.
The appearance of the Chitines was unsettling, as their involvement with Nyssanna hinted at layers of intrigue that Fadarra could not begin to understand. But what the two horrid little beasts carried with them exposed emotions that Fadarra had carefully hidden for decades.
“Vennush!” Fadarra cried out the name of her consort, as the chitines dumped the inert body of a male drow at her feet. Matron Noquar sank to her knees, her hands reaching out to touch the still flesh of her lover.
“There!” Nyssanna cried out in triumph. “That is your sin. Quelaa!” The drider spat the last word with as much venom as she could muster; for it was a word in the tongue of the surface elves, a word that had no equivalent in the drow language, a word that simply meant, love.
“Why?” Fadarra sobbed, her ebon features stained with grief. “He did nothing, your business was with me! With me!” She pounded her chest with the hilt of her sword; the dull thump of metal striking flesh a rhythmic cadence of loss and anguish.
“His sin was the same as yours.” Nyssanna announced. “Your weakness infected him, just as it has corrupted you.”
Vennush had been Fadarra’s consort for fifty years; the handsome drow warrior had served in her house guard for years and had eventually caught her eye after she had tired of her previous consort. Their dalliances began as nothing more than physical pleasure, but Vennush’s keen mind and unusual philosophical bent intrigued the matron mother, and their relationship had grown into something far more than she had expected. Vennush was a worshiper of Vhaeraun, the patron god of drow males, and although this allegiance was not illegal, it was stilled frowned upon by the ruling matriarchy of Erelhei-Cinlu.
Vennush had believed firmly in the teachings of Vhaeraun, believing that a unified society rather than the oppressive rule of a few individuals was the key to unlocking the potential of the drow race as a whole. Fadarra had scoffed at these ideas, considering them little more than a male’s idle ponderings, but after years of intimate association with Vennush, she began to see the merits of his ideals. But, regardless of her illicit feelings towards her consort, feelings she could neither name nor resist, she could not allow her passion to influence her rule as matron mother. So she had kept her relationship with Vennush a secret, admitting freely that he was her consort in public, were she would debase and scorn him, behavior expected of a matron mother towards her inferior male consort. But alone, in her chambers, there was equality; there was tenderness, and an abiding commitment that went beyond anything she had ever experienced.
Now looking down into the empty eyes of her mate, Fadarra cursed herself for a fool. Her indiscretions had cost her something far more dear that even her own life. She took Vennush’s lifeless hand into her own, pressing it against her cheek to let the final warmth of her tears wash over his cold, inert flesh. Fadarra then leaned forward, brushing her lips against Vennush’s ear. “En nol daha veh, ni quelaa.” She whispered in elvish, words that brought a snort of disgust from Nyssanna. I will see you soon, my love.
“Look how pathetic you have become, matron Noquar. Reduced to a sobbing wreck by a male.” Nyssanna spat.
Fadarra placed Vennush’s hand upon his chest and rose to her feet, her eyes dead calm behind a mask of grief. “Ask your questions, Nyssanna. I would be done with this.”
“Very well, I have but one inquiry I must make before you join your lover in the abyss.” The drider said.
“Then ask, and be done with it.”
“Tell me what you know of the guildmaster of assassin’s, this Grummok. I hear that his services have been retained to investigate the death of matron Aleval.”
“He is an assassin, skilled at his work, and possessed of a keen mind. It is hardly surprising that Matron Tormtor would hire an assassin to find an assassin.” Fadarra said, her face was passive, but inside her heart pounded with fear and excitement. If there was anyone in the city that might put a hiccup in the plans of Lolth and her proxy, it was Grummok. Many of the matron mothers feared the gargoyle assassin, as his skill and expertise at his chosen profession was without rival. His services were, of course, far to valuable to elicit any thought of disposing of him, and Matron Tormtor seemed to command his loyalty well enough.
“You say he is skilled. How skilled?” Nyssanna pressed.
“I have used his services on more than one occasion, he has always been quick and discreet. To my knowledge he has never failed to execute a contract.” Fadarra downplayed Grummok’s skill as much as she dared, for if Nyssanna suspected that Grummok might be a danger to her, it could force a confrontation the assassin might not be ready for.
“He has quite a pit of power for a male, although this hardly surprises me after your pitiful display.” Nyssanna declared acidly.
“That is all I know.” Fadarra said with a shrug. “If you desire more information, then ask your mother. I am sure she will be more than happy to provide you with all the answers you seek.”
“Oh yes, I will being seeing mother soon enough.” Nyssanna said, ignoring Fadarra’s barb. “But now there is unfinished business between you and I.” The drider drew a long wavy bladed dagger from where it hung in a sheath on her belt.
Fadarra brought her scimitar up before her, and suddenly her mouth creased in a grin.
“What are you smiling at, fool?” Nyssanna asked as she moved forward slowly, weaving her dagger before her body in wide intricate patterns. “Know you not that death is upon you?”
“Yes, death is upon me.” Fadarra agreed. “But my end shall not be in accordance to the will of Lolth!” The matron mother cried, and reversed the point of her sword, angling it towards her own abdomen.
“No! Stop!” Nyssanna bellowed, surging forward, dagger cocked back to retrieve her murder from the uncooperative matron Noquar. But Fadarra was faster, and with one massive heave drove her scimitar completely through her own body. She fell to her knees; both hands still wrapped around the hilt of her weapon, and ripped the keen edge of the scimitar through her gut, spilling a hot gush of entrails across her lap.
The smile faded from Fadarra Noquar’s face as the light faded from her eyes. She toppled over, collapsing across the corpse of Vennush, a wide pool of crimson spreading to encompass the bodies of both lovers.
“I’ll grant you this, bitch.” Nyssanna said as she stared down at the still bodies of Fadarra and Vennush. “You surprised me there at the end. But it wont make much of a difference when the Yochlol are devouring your souls in the demon web.” The drider sheathed her dagger, and turned to her chitine servants. “Let her bleed to death, it wont take long.”
Fadarra clung to life, holding her final breath in reserve for one more task. Through the darkness of her fading life, she heard the chitinous scuttling of Nyssanna and her chitines leaving the chapel. When she was sure that she was alone, the matron mother moved her left hand to brush the skin of Vennush’s neck, and then with the point of one painted, finely manicure nail, carved three letters into his flesh, N Y S. Fadarra had planned to leave more, but the darkness of eternity rose up to swallow her, and as she spiraled down into oblivion, matron Noquar silently blessed the blades of a gargoyle assassin, that they might find the black heart of Nyssanna Tormtor.
